


For Once

by Sarita1046



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Conditioning, F/M, First Time, Healing, Healthy Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Underage Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-19 00:01:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29498481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarita1046/pseuds/Sarita1046
Summary: By now, he no longer bothers to stop the tears that stream down his cheeks. He relishes the warm embrace of this princess before him…he can admit that, as much as her Runestone magic reminds him of the light spun by another before dimming to creeping shadow.
Relationships: Angella & Micah (She-Ra), Angella/Micah (She-Ra), Light Spinner/Micah (past)
Kudos: 5





	For Once

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Reference to a past underage but consensual relationship, as we don't know the in-universe age of consent.

Micah fights the urge to pull his black hair from the suddenly constricting bun atop his head, as he stares into the infuriating, judgmental gaze of the interim Mystacor headmaster, Crysta Sigil. Since when had interim extended into three years?

“No title? Really?” that voice croaks, as Headmaster Sigil straightens his spectacles. “You know it’s standard practice for an institute graduate, Micah. Particularly one of your caliber. Moons, Micah, you gained Guild acceptance before graduation, that is almost unheard of. Even your younger sister has chosen a ti—”

“I am not my sister,” Micah cuts in, then pauses before continuing. “Castaspella deserves her title.”

“Hesitant as I am to agree,” the headmaster hands over the furnished official diploma to the younger man, “I must ask…why refuse, even now that you’ve finished your studies?”

“I just…” Micah suddenly can’t wait to get out of this office, lest the other dreaded topic emerge… “I want to live a normal life.”

“With your intended?”

That does it – Micah has to clench his fist to keep from slamming it into the nearest wall. “I should _not_ have to be married off just because I’m good at magic!”

“Watch your tone,” the headmaster clearly strives to stare him down with that grey gaze. “I suppose…the former headmaster didn’t take a title either. I will let it slide. But you would do well to show some gratitude for this marriage arrangement. You know that the Guild only selects the best propositions from our own ranks as well as those of the neighboring kingdom.”

“The princesses, yes, I know,”, Micah makes sure to keep his tone level at the mention of the late Norwyn – old goat that he’d been. “I’ve never even had the chance to meet any of them.” 

“You should recognize how fortunate any sorcerer is to catch the attention of a princess’s family,” Sigil goes on. “As you know, the power of free magic pales in comparison to the magic of—”

“Yeah, I know, the power of the Runestones,” Micah interrupts again, face flushed as he yet again thinks of those pedantic lectures on Etheria’s native magic made all the more bearable by that deep, melodic voice…

Moons, snap _out_ of it. She is _never_ coming back. 

“Then, you understand the importance and weight of a union with the future leader of the princesses.”

The statement hangs in the stuffy air like a cloud that refuses to blow away despite the harshest wind.

“Who is it?” Micah settles on, lightheadedness threatening to overwhelm him at the sheer weakness he’s sought to deny. 

He’s failed their planet. By failing Light Spinner, he has failed Etheria. She depended on him with her life. If he had only stayed by her side and _tried_ …

“Angella,” comes the reply, and Micah has to scoff.

“No grand title for her either, then.”

“She hardly needs one, my boy,” Sigil’s mouth quirks in an uncharacteristic smile. “She comes from a line of Angelic Beings.”

Micah ponders this. He’s only heard rumors, but…

“Then, how can a union work? They’re immortal, there have been so few records of couplings with non-immortals ever bringing children—”

“Which is precisely why the wedding will only occur should a coupling prove successful,” the headmaster deadpans as if reporting the weather. “The trial will begin tonight. Happy graduation, Micah.”

After practically barreling out of Sigil’s office and through the halls past curious students, Micah has to catch his breath and steady his breathing once outside.

Casting a temporary invisibility spell, he leans against a tree to take just one moment to himself. Without prying eyes or praise or sympathy over the _tragedy_ from three years earlier.

Tonight. He could run, travel to Bright Moon as expected and then escape into the darkness of the Whispering Woods. It might suit Angella just as well, considering all of his scant experience over the past three years has been with other men...

But showing yet more cowardice might just end him at this point. 

No, he will see this through. With any luck, nothing will come of the coupling, and Angella can move on. Then, he can go back to avoiding intimacy with women since the days before the accident…

Casta serves as the only source of comfort before he enters into the Trial Tent that evening. Her warm brown eyes gaze up at him in understanding, as she embraces him a last time before departing for the night. Their parents preferred to hang back, it seems. He figures all of his sullenness must have finally gotten to them.

“I’m so proud of you, Casta,” he murmurs by her ear, as she draws back. 

“And I you.”

Castaspella’s soft voice has barely left his ears the moment he ducks beyond the tent flap to take in the sight of Princess Angella.

 _Tall_ is the first thing that registers, with _Wings_ being the second.

While he has read of the Angelic Beings during his studies, he wasn’t prepared for the sheer…well, size.

“Hello there.” That voice, light and crisp as a bell, contrasts strongly with the imposing height of the young woman who turns to face him from where she stands gazing at a firefly that has wriggled its way up the far side of the tent wall. 

“I…hi.” Wow, off to a great start already.

“Have they all gone from outside?” Angella asks, taking a seat on the tent floor.

“I’m pretty sure it’s just us now,” Micah approaches, stopping about half a meter from Angella before joining her on the ground. While he can't quite complain over her height, he finds he prefers looking at her head on in the thankfully dim light from the orb of fireflies that hovers just beneath the tent’s ceiling.

“Good!” Angella rolls her eyes, pulling a flask from her off-the-shoulder crème gown. “They made me wear this ridiculous frock, the least I could do was take advantage of the countless creases and folds.”

She takes a swig before handing the flask to Micah who takes a moment to contemplate the mahogany liquid inside. While he knows of “mood water” as they call it around Mystacor, he’d only ever gotten a taste several months after the incident with Light Spinner when several older students insisted it would help him sleep…only to discover that their idea of sleep must have meant forgetting your problems for a few hours only to be brutally reminded of every wrong choice you’ve ever made while sprawled on the floor of the washroom for the better part of a day. 

“I…thanks,” he manages before taking a conservative sip.

“Oh, come on,” that light voice rang with her evidently outlandish demeanor, “I snagged that from my father’s best supply. You’re welcome to more.”

Taking a longer swig, Micah decides to just cut to the chase. “So…you’re not too thrilled to be here?”

“It’s taken some theatrical skills to appear intimidated,” Angella sighs, rearranging her knees beneath her body as she fiddles with one of the layered blankets beneath them, wings somehow avoiding brushing the tent wall behind her. “But they expect me to still be modest, so…I suppose the occasion called for it.”

Micah shifts to mirror her posture. Her gaze rises to meet his.

“At least you’re decent to look at.”

Clearing his throat, the words tumble out before he could stop himself. “Did you want to move at your own pace, then?”

She scoffs. “It’s not as if you’ve made to push me into the blankets. Found out recently too, I assume?”

“This morning,” he replies. May as well be honest.

Her violent eyes widen. “ _Moons_. Well, rest assured we’re in this together. Let the awkwardness commence.”

Micah has to focus to hold his position while she crosses the short distance between them on her knees. 

“We’ll start slow,” she begins, and he has to wonder if she actually enjoys calling the shots. Not that he minds. “Feel free to stroke my wings.”

“Do you…like that?” Micah chances.

“It feels no different from caressing an arm,” Angella admits, as he brushes tentative fingers along the white feathers behind her left ear. “But people always seem curious about them.”

“They’re really pretty,” Micah remarks, marveling once again at the supreme levels of awkwardness he has achieved since this whole day began. 

“May I touch you?” she asks, her voice a bit softer.

Once he nods, Angella places her flask aside and lifts the fingertips of both her hands to brush along his temples. All at once, shivers break out across his nape, as he struggles to suppress a sigh.

“Mother said we’d be expected to get right to it,” she trails her hands down his arms to his sides. “But I wanted to take my time. Do something out of my own volition for once.”

At the notion of yet another strong woman repressed by her surroundings, Micah’s chest somersaults. Heat rises in his cheeks moments before his own fingers move from wings to shoulders.

When violet eyes flutter shut, his own close to the image of a bright green gaze in the darkness behind his eyelids. 

_Remember, Micah, she is the priority. You are none of her concern, merely an afterthought to be dealt with later._

Flesh suddenly simmering with desire beneath the touch of the woman before him, Micah’s lips attack Angella’s throat, barely masking his own moan. He only vaguely registers her arms surrounding his, as her gown falls to reveal smooth ombre flesh. Wasting no time, he encases one nipple in his mouth, as his right hand rises to knead her other breast.

Letting out only a soft sigh, Angella continues to draw patterns on his back with her fingertips before gently removing his upper tunic. 

Spurred on by her quickened breaths, Micah kisses a trail down her belly as she surprisingly lies down flat without resistance. The pliancy makes him close his eyes again, lest he envision the violet flesh beneath him as soft grey instead and the sturdy hands in his hair as those black shadow vines erupting from above... 

As his hands tenderly part the front of her gown to slide her white undergarments down her thighs, Angella finally speaks. “Someone in Mystacor schooled you well.”

The tears that prick at his eyes nearly freeze him in his ministrations, before a push of Angella’s palm against the side of his head encourages his mouth to finally close around her center. Gripping her hips, he marvels anew at the devastating glory this can bring.

Micah’s own arousal throbs against the tent floor, as he resists the urge to grind forth and relieve the pressure. This is _not_ about him. It never was. And yet, he had insisted on making it about him when he backed out of that spell…

Micah’s tongue makes quick work of the bundle of nerves at the apex of Angella’s thighs, until she has tangled her fingers in his hair as she thrusts upward against his face with a harsh cry.

Rising, Micah carefully wipes his lips on the sleeve of his discarded tunic, preparing to depart the tent and then return without being seen. “I’ll be back, I just need to take care of something.”

Angella, clearly still out of breath, sits up. “You can’t leave, they’ll have our heads.”

“I’ll use an invisibility spell,” he assures her in a frantic whisper, as the need threatens to overwhelm him, “I’ll be back in five minutes, at most.”

“Micah, talk to me,” Angella catches his wrist, as he realizes she’s uttered his name for the first time. “What’s so important you need to go do?”

One of the moons could have crashed into the planet, and it wouldn’t have quelled the memories that flood forth as Angella raises a hand to stroke his cheek. 

A desperate whimper escapes his lips, as warmth erupts in his trousers.

Time seems to freeze, as ochre eyes eventually lower. “I see. You know, that’s no reason to run away. How would our societies ever breed us that way?”

He wants to wince at the harsh term she uses. Not that it’s inaccurate. 

“Micah, sit down,” and her gentle tone makes the request sound all too soothing.

He obeys. With a swift movement of her fingertips in the air over his waistline, a subtle glow emits a heat soft enough to dry the material without burning the linen. 

“We can take our time,” she continues. “Perhaps I acted too rashly. They’ve given us all night. Let’s get to know each other a little better. I heard you…were involved in an accident at Mystacor. I didn’t want to bring it up, but…I must admit I was intrigued.”

Of course, of all the topics…

“I…tried to help cast a spell to defend against the Horde. Not all of the sorcerers at Mystacor wanted to leave everything to the Princesses.”

“But you weren’t alone?” Angella says knowingly. “Did you lose someone?”

Micah draws a shaky breath against the lump rising yet again in his throat. 

“Family?” Angella guesses. “An instructor?”

“I…I,” his voice almost breaks again, as he averts his gaze to his lap. 

“A lover?” she says, quieter, as she draws him into her arms. 

By now, he no longer bothers to stop the tears that stream down his cheeks. He relishes the warm embrace of this princess before him…he can admit that, as much as her Runestone magic reminds him of the light spun by another before dimming to creeping shadow.

“The former headmaster wasn’t a good man,” he mumbles, desperate to rationalize his own actions, even years later. “I walked in on him trying to hurt…someone close to me, and I ended up keeping guard for her every night. And-and things just…”

His words falter, exhausted at the comforting brush of fingertips along his shoulder blades.

When Micah draws back once more to gaze into Angella’s eyes, he speaks first. “Angella. For once, I want to try and move on. I want to believe the Horde can be defeated. I want to trust in our joined forces.”

With that same strongheaded conviction that laced her tone upon their first exchange, she touches her forehead to his. “Let’s begin now.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy belated Valentine's Day, y'all! <3


End file.
